


What Is Missed

by notboldly



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-30
Updated: 2009-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/notboldly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaila was a better friend than anyone realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is Missed

What Is Missed

Contrary to popular opinion, Uhura was not, and never had been, a cold person. When the death count of the Nero Incident was finally totaled and the names were finally listed, she cried for each and every one, whether she’d known them personally or not. She’d cried for Vulcans and humans alike, for children who had been lost and parents who had to bury them, and she’d cried for the loss of a world—because even an empty world without culture or intelligent life would have been a loss to science and knowledge.

Gaila would have had understood that; it had been her field, after all, although it often surprised people to hear that promiscuous, flirty Gaila was actually a biologist, and a brilliant one. It had even been remarked on back at the academy, in voices filled with awe, that she was on the same level as Spock, one of their brilliant Vulcan professors.

Gaila had laughed at that, and taken it in her normal good humor.

_What do you say, Nyota? A Vulcan and an Orion…we could have brilliant, biologist babies together!_

And Uhura had laughed too, because the idea of Gaila settling down—with anyone, much less a stoic Vulcan—had seemed hilarious. Still, in the back of her mind, she felt that the hypothetical children would be beautiful, and she said so. And Gaila had smiled, one of those rare true smiles that few people got to see, and she had said something like “and of course you’d be their godmother;” Uhura couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said, actually, even though her memory was keen. It had seemed so unimportant at the time, like anything friends might have said, one joke among many.

It was important at the funeral, although she couldn’t say why. The service itself was a large, formal affair, and it was attended by thousands, meant to be a memorial to all those lost. Uhura thought it was silly to think that one day—one service—could even begin to account for all the pain, all the loss, but she knew that Starfleet had to try, or else they might never be the same again. And even though it wasn’t—would never be—enough, parents from every country came to say good-bye to their children, and many more came from other planets and space stations and recently charted worlds. But no one came for Gaila; no one except Uhura. For that matter, no one came for any of the Orions who had served and died, few as they were, because their culture was as strange and complex as their language. Uhura had always had a hard time understanding either and, of course, Gaila had tried to explain both.

_No, no, no, that’s not how you say it! Geesh, Nyota, you’d think you were going into command with a tongue like that!_

_Well, explain it so that it makes sense and maybe I’ll learn it, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why the Orions have nineteen words for lover that only differ by a syllable and only one—ONE!—for friend!_

Gaila had smiled then, and tossed something like a fern leaf at her in a normal, playful manner.

_Because friend, Nyota, is infinitely more important; it only needs one. You should know that._

Uhura knew it; it was more obvious than ever in the days after the Incident. Because Spock, who she could admit she’d fallen in love with, had gone the route of so many of her old boyfriends and old loves; when it came right down to it, they never stayed long enough to meet her parents, or her baby sister, or hear her secrets. And, like with most of them, it wasn’t his fault, nor was it hers. Spock couldn’t have known that the Captain was more possessive with his friends than he was with his ship, just like the Captain couldn’t have known that Spock’s mother had been blond and maybe he was a bit fascinated with the color as a result.

Uhura and Gaila would have talked about that, too; they had, in some form, just weeks before…before.

_Professor Spock? Really? Well, I’ll be fucked sideways-_

_Gaila!_

_-but I wouldn’t have thought he’d be your type. Here I thought you would have to take ME home to your parents this vacation!_

_Yeah, I can see it now; mother, this is my crazy roommate, Gaila. We’ve been dating-_

_Dating!_

_-for almost a day now._

_Cute, Nyota. Real cute._

_Thanks. My mother would have hated you, you know._

_I know._

And she would have; her mother was like that. For that matter, her mother would probably have hated Spock, too. Her grandmother, though—her beautiful grandmother—would have loved them both. And Uhura had said as much, the words laden with as much affection as she could, because she had never met Gaila’s family, and never would. For all she knew, _Gaila_ had never met Gaila’s family, so rarely did she talk about them.

Of course, she tried not to mention that, and she tried to keep her own comments about her family to a minimum, instead focusing on herself and Gaila or occasionally herself, Spock, and Gaila—although those latter conversations inevitably turned into heavy innuendo with a dash of hysteria that usually left them both unable to breathe without wheezing for at least a few minutes.

Now that she thought of it, one of those conversations had been the first time, really, that Gaila had kissed her with more than friendly affection. Because Gaila kissed a lot of people, and she had a strange need to do so in every possible way; on the mouth, the cheek, the ears. Almost immediately after they had moved in together, in fact, Gaila had taken to kissing Nyota on the forehead to say goodnight; it was just what she _did._

But that kiss was long and slow and affectionate and, while there was probably lust involved too, Uhura couldn’t remember it. It had just seemed so nice and sad and pleasant, and Uhura knew she’d been crying when it ended. Gaila had been alarmed, of course, and she had asked what was wrong, but Uhura hadn’t been able to say anything. Thankfully she hadn’t had to, because they were both late for class by that time, but still, the memory had stuck. Eventually it had even become a purely pleasant memory, because Gaila kissed a lot of people, and she liked Uhura enough to not need to kiss her again. And Uhura liked Gaila as the good friend she was.

It wasn’t until weeks after the Nero Incident that Uhura wondered if maybe that had been all it was. It didn’t matter then, of course, because those times—the time at the academy, the carefree days of friendship and meaningless kisses—were gone.

Still she wondered, sometimes. After the funeral. After she had been one of many to stand up and speak for her friends with a special emphasis on Gaila. After she had waved Spock goodbye with a smile when he asked if she would like him to accompany her, and she’d said no. Because he had other people to comfort, even if neither of them would admit it.

And that night when she laid herself on her pillow, thinking of all the things that could have been and weren’t, she was just a little bit scared as she cried, but not surprised. No, never surprised.

Because Gaila had been a good friend, and Uhura missed her…more than she could have ever missed Spock.

End


End file.
